Hooked
by Diva-esque
Summary: Everyone needs a day off - even people like Tezuka. And Fuji, being Fuji, decides to tag along.
1. Hooked

Aishuu Offers:

**Hooked**

* * *

Tezuka knew he shouldn't be there, but sometimes allowances had to be made. Despite what people believed, he couldn't play tennis twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.

He should, by all rights, be in class, but today had been one of those rare days when he had felt the urge to take a break from the pressure of being "buchou" and merely be a student playing hookey from class. Tezuka was a good student, and he could well afford to miss a day of school for the lure of the mountains.

He hadn't been hiking since school began, and he had begun to feel cramped in the city. He loved Tokyo, with its tons of tennis courts sprawled all over the place, but there was something about the wilderness that called to him. Occasionally he would abandon his racquet, grab a fishing pole, and take a train to his family's cabin. Usually it required a three-day weekend, to make a proper trip of it, and since Golden Week had been spent playing tennis (of course), he hadn't had a chance to take a trip yet this year.

The fish weren't biting today as he sat by a small lake on his family's private land, but that really wasn't the point. It was about the peace and tranquility, the restful "plop!" as the bait dangled into the water. He could sit and think of nothing, indulge in idle musings, and pretend tennis didn't exist. It was relaxing, and he would feel the stress melt away, easing the strict mask he wore. When he returned, he would be the better for the brief respite. Of course, it probably would have been more restful if Fuji Syusuke hadn't someone invited himself along, but trying to stop Fuji from doing what he wanted was like trying to stop a hurricane with a house of straw.

Tezuka wasn't quite sure how Fuji knew what his plans were, but the two had been friends since they had entered Seigaku. The tensai tended to know what was going on, despite his usually oblivious pose, and did whatever he wanted.

Tezuka has learned not to argue with him.

So when Fuji had shown up on his doorstep that morning at 5 a.m., clutching a camping bag, Tezuka had merely grabbed his own supplies and started walking, Fuji falling into place beside him.

Fuji didn't need conversation, something Tezuka was glad for. At the moment, the tensai was flipping through /Ogura Hyakunin Isshu/ with a slight smile on his face. He had been quiet company for the three hours since they had arrived, calmly settling in without saying a word.

/Splash/

Another fish stole Tezuka's bait, the fifth time it happened that day. Tezuka allowed himself the luxury of sighing, knowing that Fuji wouldn't hold it against him.

Fuji's smile widened a bit, and Tezuka felt something settle in the pit of his stomach. Quickly he turned to the task of re-baiting his hook, unperturbed by the worms. Once he had taken Oishi fishing, and the vice captain had turned green at the thought of live bait.

A cast, another plop! and Tezuka was focusing on the water...

The water was the same stunning blue as Fuji's eyes.

Where did that thought come from? he wondered.

"This is nice, isn't it, Tezuka?" Fuji asked sleepily from where he was leaning against a tree. His smile was the same as ever, but there was a sleepy contentment in his voice that Tezuka rarely heard. Usually the other boy was hiding behind a series of masks, but when it was just the two of them, they could relax. There was competition between them, naturally, as the first and second players of the team, but they had always had a unique understanding that transcended words. Oishi was Tezuka's right hand, but Fuji was his left - and Tezuka was left-handed.

"Yes," Tezuka answered. He was never one for words, but ignoring Fuji on a day off would have been rude.

"It's almost worth getting in trouble for."

Tezuka quirked an eyebrow at the ridiculous thought. Teachers never came down on the good students; most of his teachers were terrified of him, and he knew that Fuji had them equally cowed. "If you hadn't come, no one would notice I was missing," Tezuka replied.

Fuji laughed at that, shutting his book and placing it into his backpack. "I don't think that's true. Everyone notices you, Tezuka."

"Maybe," he replied, even though he knew that Fuji was right, as usual. Tezuka was used to being able to command with his presence. It was something he took for granted - and without him, he supposed others lacked leadership.

Fuji's eyes were open, a sign that something serious was about to go down. "It's going to rain," he said softly. "Why did you come out here today?"

"Because the fish bite well in cloudy weather," Tezuka answered. "I've fished before through hours of storms."

The tensai sighed a bit, wrapping his arms around his knees. "I don't like the rain very much, Tezuka."

"You didn't seem to mind when you were playing the match against Echizen," Tezuka said.

"Because I was distracted by the idea of making sure he didn't beat me," Fuji replied. His tilted his head back to watch the gathering clouds, and Tezuka's eyes were drawn helplessly up the slender column of the tensai's throat to when honey-brown strands of hair were falling across graceful cheekbones. There seemed to be a vulnerability in the elegant face, but Tezuka knew offering comfort would be very much like grabbing a tiger by the tail... once he did, he'd never be able to let go, for fear the tiger would bite him.

Tezuka raised an eyebrow, but Fuji, for once, wasn't looking at him. "What were you thinking of?" Tezuka finally asked, making his decision.

Fuji's eyes fell on the captain's face, seeming to weigh him. Whatever he saw there apparently satisfied him, for he answered after a moment. "When I was little, Yuuta was afraid of rainstorms. He would always crawl into my bed, and I would promise him that everything would be okay," Fuji said.

"That sounds like a nice memory," Tezuka replied. He knew how close Fuji was to his brother.

"It would have been, except... one day, it wasn't." Fuji stared at him slowly. "The rain came, a hard rain that filled the sky with lightning..." Fuji shivered a bit. "The phone rang that day, and it turned out our grandmother was killed in an accident, when her house was hit by a tree."

Tezuka was surprised by Fuji's uncharacteristic vulnerability. "I'm sorry."

"So was I. It was the first time I ever lied to Yuuta. So I don't like rain." Fuji moved a bit closer, and Tezuka wondered why he suddenly felt like he had just run thirty laps.

Tezuka's hands toyed with his fishing pole. "It's always made me feel alive," he replied. He didn't elaborate, knowing Fuji would understand the primal forces that rain brought out within him. Anyone who saw him play Echizen in that practice match would realize there was a killer inside of Fuji, one very similar to the one that lurked inside Tezuka, a ruthless beast that would devour anyone who got in his way when roused.

"I thought tennis made you feel alive," Fuji said, and Tezuka was caught in the incredibly blue eyes that had locked on his own. Fuji seemed to shake off his melancholy, and Tezuka wondered what thoughts were going on in that sly mind.

"There's more to life than tennis.".

"Really? Is this Tezuka Kunimitsu, captain of the Seigaku tennis club, speaking?" Fuji asked with the grace of one of his triple counters, unsettling Tezuka with the same skill he used to unnerve his opponents.

"There's fishing," Tezuka countered calmly, refusing to be one of Fuji's toys.

"I don't know how," Fuji said.

Tezuka handed the pole over, feeling his hands brush against Fuji's. Fuji's skin was surprisingly warm, and their fingers lingered together for a bit too long. "When one bites, jerk it to hook it, then reel it in," Tezuka said. They sat together with their sides touching as Fuji took control of the fishing.

Fuji gave him the smile that others found so frustrating, and Tezuka wondered why he was bothering teaching him. Fuji was constantly baiting other people... teaching him how to land fish was not anything that would help anyone's sanity in the long run.

Fuji was incredibly patience, Tezuka saw after a half an hour. The tensai sat still for nearly half an hour, resembling a statue. His should and hip brushed against Tezuka's, but the captain made no move to pull away. The other boy's warmth was comfortable, and the sleepy day was passing ideally.

Nothing even touched the line, for which Tezuka was grateful. He really didn't want to see Fuji catch anything, finding the mental picture of Fuji killing something strangely disturbing in how... accurate it was.

They could have sat there all afternoon, but a wet drop of rain landed on Tezuka's cheek. Normally he would have just kept fishing, but he glanced over at Fuji, aware now that he didn't like rain.

"You ready to go?" he offered, wiping his hands and packing up his tackle box.

"You didn't catch anything," Fuji pointed out.

"I think I did."

Tezuka caught Fuji's chin with his left hand, tilting the other boy's head up quickly before either of them could think things through. Leaning forward, he kissed Fuji Syusuke, just as the sky opened up over head, thoroughly soaking them.

He should have been in school. He should have been thinking about tennis... it was insane, to be sitting outside in a rainstorm, kissing one of his best friends...

But with Fuji wrapped around him as the rain pounded down, and all Tezuka could think about was how right this moment was.


	2. Sweet

**Sweet**

Author: Aishuu

Fandom: Tennis no Oujisama

Type: Shonen ai

Disclaimer: Konomi Takeshi, manga-ka.

Notes: The Sequel to "Hooked."

* * *

It had been a week since Tezuka had kissed him on the fishing trip, and Fuji was lying in wait for "what happened next."

They went back to school the day after, neither of them talking about the kiss. Tezuka wasn't the type to express himself verbally, and Fuji knew when to push and when not to. Tezuka required careful handling, and he knew that the team captain was probably regretting the impulsive kiss. Even if he was in love with Fuji, displaying his emotions wasn't something he was comfortable with.

Well, Fuji didn't regret it He had long admired Tezuka, and the smooth way he moved. Everything Tezuka did seemed to be part of a carefully choreographed play; he didn't have any spare motion, and there was a thoughtfulness to everything he said. Fuji loved to listen to his deep voice, for though he spoke rarely, Tezuka's words were always well-considered. Tezuka didn't waste words, and each of one was more valuable than the last.

Sometimes Fuji would watch Tezuka, and long to just photograph him. It was an instinct of his indicating that Tezuka's presence would transfer itself onto the film perfectly, that Tezuka would be one of the best subjects he could ask for. Tezuka was beautiful physically and mentally, drawing the eye. No matter what he did, Tezuka was unable to avoid attention - he had presence.

Fuji didn't. He knew that he was able to sneak up on people so easily because his presence was less than the stoic captain's, but that didn't mean he was weak. They fit, like a hand in a velvet glove, because while both tended towards watching people, their techniques were totally different. He was subtle, in a way Tezuka could never hope to be.

And patient.

They didn't have classes together, and tennis practice ate into a huge chunk of their time. He hadn't had a chance to be alone with Tezuka, and wipe some of the uncertainty of the status of where they were going. One kiss didn't equal true love, after all.

Tennis practice had gone as normal for the two of them, with no one guessing what had happened. They had experienced a bit of resentment from the team (especially Echizen, who was convinced they had snuck off for some highly covert tennis training) over the missing day, but things fell back into order readily enough.

Fuji returned to playing and teasing his teammates subtly, while Tezuka watched it all from the sidelines. He could feel Tezuka's eyes on him periodically, watching his movements. It all had to come to a head. Sexual tension between teenage boys always did.

That Saturday, after practice, Fuji watched as Kikumaru finished changing into his street clothes. The redhead was in a hyper mood, and Fuji was feeling a bit impatient with him.

"And then Inui... ne, Fuji? Are you listening?" Kikumaru asked. He tied a shoe, wagging the foot to make sure it was on tight enough. Once he hadn't, and the shoe had gone flying off in the middle of a Tokyo Street when he had spontaneously performed a bit of his acrobatics. Fuji was still making sly references to the incident.

"Yes, Eiji," Fuji said soothingly, though in truth he wasn't. When Kikumaru started to ramble, Fuji had found that tuning him out for ten minutes didn't even disrupt the flow of conversation.

"Good! Anyway, I'm going to go get some ice cream with Momo and Ochibi," he said. "You coming?"

Ice cream was something he didn't really care one way or another about. He had little sense of taste but he never let that bother him. It was one of those things that had always been a part of his life - the fact that when he bit into something, the flavor wasn't strong enough to provoke a reaction. Things that people said were sour, salty, bitter or sweet didn't stand out to him. He guessed it was because he just didn't have enough taste buds - he had read about people like that.

Of course, he learned to use it to his advantage. Most people had no clue exactly what was wrong with him - even though Momoshiro would have claimed it was a terminal case of sadism, which may have also been part of it - so eliciting shocked reactions from his friends over exactly what he could eat with a smile on his face was enjoyable. Wasabi was a favorite of his, but so was natto. If it was a food that people hated, he would eat it with relish. Why not, when he couldn't taste it?

And then Inui introduced his line of "Inui Juices" and Fuji thought he had died and gone to heaven. Inui wouldn't knowingly poison the team, and Fuji had watched everyone else keel over from the taste of them. When he guzzled down creation after creation, asking for seconds, everyone looked at him like he was absolutely crazy.

It was so FUN watching everyone squirm.

Of course, sometimes he wished he knew what things really tasted like to everyone else. People seemed to get such pleasure out of eating the foods they liked, and eating was such a part of culture - everywhere he went, food was offered as part of the events. Fuji thought it would have been fun to share the experiences, maybe as fun as it was watching people squirm from his various non-reactions to rather questionable food.

But Fuji wasn't one to lament what couldn't be He snapped himself out of his musings, looking at Kikumaru, who was waiting expectantly. "No, I'll pass," he said. Watching Echizen, Momoshiro and Kikumaru would feel too much like babysitting. It could be fun, when he was in the right mood, but he was a bit tired. And he really didn't need to see them on sugar.

"It's ICE CREAM! The elixir of life!" Kikumaru said insistently.

"I don't feel like it, Eiji."

Kikumaru pouted. "I don't want to be the only senpai! They'll make me pay!" he whined.

Fuji smiled. "A good senpai watches out for his kouhai," he said. He always found it amusing thinking of Kikumaru as a "senpai." He pitied Momoshiro and Echizen a bit, but realized that the two had so thoroughly double-teamed the acrobatics player that he didn't stand a chance. It MIGHT be worth watching him squirm, but...

An idea flashed through his mind. "Why don't you ask Oishi?"he asked.

"He has to help Tezuka with some paperwork," Kikumaru grumbled. He crossed his arms across his chest, looking extremely cute.

"I'll help Tezuka," Fuji volunteered.

Kikumaru, despite what some people thought, wasn't stupid. Aside from Tezuka, he knew Fuji best, which meant that he didn't know him that well at all. But he did know that Fuji rarely was altruistic. He tried to think of repercussions, and unable to come up with anything, he smiled at Fuji. "Thanks!" he said, bouncing off before he could think better of it.

Fuji smiled as he watched him go, a little devil wandering through his mind. Patience had its virtues but there was no reason he shouldn't help things along. He waited another ten minutes before going to Ryuuzaki-sensei's office. Tezuka would have a key to lock up later, and she had gone home early to attend Sakuno's birthday. The late afternoon light was slanting through the windows, and he walked in, careful to lock the door behind him.

Tezuka was sitting on a chair, twirling a pen the way he did when he was thinking. Fuji smiled at the sight - few people saw Tezuka fidget. He rarely wasted motion.

"Hello, Tezuka," he said.

Tezuka didn't even look up, merely nodded. "Are you here to help?" he asked.

"Maybe," Fuji answered. He walked over to peer at what Tezuka was doing, and blinked. Ranking match possibilities were laid out before him. "Didn't we just have ranking matches two weeks ago?" he asked curiously.

"I always keep ongoing schedules of how they should be, if we have to arrange them again suddenly," Tezuka said.

Fuji's eyes narrowed as he saw two charts. There was one very noticeable difference - Tezuka's name was missing on one. "Tezuka..." he whispered. He touched the second one with a tentative hand, afraid.

"We're all have to be aware of the future," Tezuka said, and he looked at Fuji squarely, challengingly.

"I confront it without fear, but I don't bow to the bad like it's inevitable," Fuji replied. His hand went from the chart to Tezuka's left shoulder, resting on it gently.

"Neither do I," said Tezuka, and his almost-there smile was charming. He set the pen aside, cupping Fuji's face gently as he stared at Fuji's delicate features.

It was too much. Fuji leaned forward and kissed Tezuka, wanting to feel that level of closeness again, the closeness they had shared on the fishing trip. There first kiss had been somewhere foreign, but here, now... this was the world they knew. Tezuka responded slowly at first, lips tentatively exploring Fuji's before his warm tongue brushed against Fuji's lips, seeking entrance. As Fuji opened his mouth and their tongues entwined, he felt his eyes drifting shut in pleasure.

Let Kikumaru have his ice cream. Fuji knew he would probably never know what "sweet" tasted like, but he was willing to wager it felt like Tezuka's kiss, a flavor that rolled through his mouth and all along his nerves, making him feel alive.

END


End file.
